


Stuck With You

by moonswinger



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, M/M, Pining Grantaire, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Sharing a Bed, There's a lot to do with Hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 13:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonswinger/pseuds/moonswinger
Summary: "He feels the metal push into his skin, and his hand involuntarily moving away from him, which is when he realizes - Enjolras is at the other end of the handcuffs. Enjolras must realize this too, because he immediately stops struggling against the cuffs."OR: Enjolras and Grantaire are handcuffed together and neither of them know what to do with feelings.





	Stuck With You

**Author's Note:**

> warning: this is my first time writing smut so it's probably, definitely bad

“This is all your fucking fault,” is the first thing Enjolras says. And Grantaire would be completely inclined to agree, but to be fair, if Enjolras hadn’t decided he wanted to be extra difficult that day, everything would’ve gone according to plan. He says as much, and Enjolras only shoots him a dirty glare in return. If looks could kill, Grantaire would be dead over a hundred times now. He likes to believe he’s immune to that glare, but he does turn away his eyes.

He is suddenly being pushed into the car door, and god damn, that is unnecessary. The cop is still holding him by the collar. He turns his head just to the side and watches Enjolras being mishandled the same way, which kind of makes his blood boil. Enjolras grunts, trying in vain to elbow the cop, but the cop is so huge that he holds both of Enjolras’ arms in one grip and Enjolras can barely move.

It was, technically, his fault. He had been the one to come up with this absolutely ridiculous plan of sneaking into the library to vandalize it. In his defense, though, he had never been the smartest among the group and had never claimed so either. Which is why one of them, someone far more sensible, should have objected to the idea in the very beginning and then none of this would have happened. And then there was the whole ordeal of Enjolras insisting that Grantaire come with him when the cops arrived. If Grantaire had just stuck to the original plan and gone out the front gate to distract the cops, none of this would have happened. But Enjolras doesn’t get that, because he’s an idiot who would rather die trying to save everyone else instead of saving his own ass like a normal person. And _fine_ , Grantaire is the one who complicated things by punching the guard, but Enjolras hadn’t come up with a better plan, so really, Grantaire can’t be blamed for anything.

Enjolras flashes him another disgruntled look over the roof of the car, and Grantaire, somehow, has the nerve to grin at him.

“You boys have caused us a lot of trouble,” the cop says over him, holding the back of Grantaire’s head against the roof of the car. Grantaire hisses at the burn in his split lip. Enjolras is still looking at him, something fierce in his eyes. Grantaire could have admired it if he had been in a more comfortable position.

The cop holding him suddenly leans away, and Grantaire can’t look at him, he can only look at how Enjolras’ eyes follow the man with his eyebrows furrowed. The two cops are still talking over them, but Grantaire doesn’t hear their conversation. His ears are still ringing from the punch the other guard had thrown. And then suddenly, he’s being pulled away from the car, and turned. Someone grabs a hold of his arm, pulling at it and then a clink of metal. It feels cool against his skin. He feels the metal push into his skin, and his hand involuntarily moving away from him, which is when he realizes - Enjolras is at the other end of the handcuffs. Enjolras must realize this too, because he immediately stops struggling against the cuffs.

The cop who had been holding Grantaire is saying something to Enjolras, and he sounds quite smug about it. Enjolras does nothing but glare at him. Grantaire would be interested in this exchange, but he just then notices that the other cop is taking a call. He’s sure there’s going to be a moment, any second now, when he hangs up the call and walks over to them. This is kind of their only chance to get out of this mess.

He flashes Enjolras a warning look, but there’s no time to make sure that Enjolras understands him. In the next second, while the cop is busy goading Enjolras, Grantaire reaches his free hand to grab the cop’s collar and smashes his head into his face with all the force he can muster. Before the cop can open his mouth to shout, Enjolras springs into action and knees him in the balls - which is a very classy move and Grantaire’s heart almost trips over. And Enjolras is already running, pulling at the handcuffs and Grantaire can do little but follow him.

 

Once they’re sort of in the clear, though, Grantaire takes over and leads them along the back alleys and the narrow garden paths, because Enjolras might have been good at taking control of the situation, but he’s a complete boob when it comes to navigation.

 

* * *

Somehow, they lose the cops. Grantaire has a feeling that it has more to do with the fact that the cops weren’t really interested in dealing with two stupid college boys tonight than it has anything to do with their excellent running skills, but he doesn’t say anything to Enjolras when they finally come to a stop. Enjolras is huffing, leaning against a dirty fence and Grantaire tries to catch his breath. He wants to sit down, but he’s not sure he can do that with their hands still handcuffed.

He catches Enjolras’ eye for a brief moment, once they’ve both stopped heaving and Enjolras, miraculously, cracks a smile. With the absurdity of it all, Grantaire can’t help but burst into a laugh, his bottom lip burning as he pulls at it. He can’t even be bothered to care, because Enjolras joins him, shaking his head as he laughs and then they are both doubling over, unable to contain all of that adrenaline turned hysteria.

“You _ass_ ,” Enjolras says in nicest tone he’s ever used when addressing Grantaire. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Which part?” Grantaire asks after a pause, and Enjolras is laughing again, clutching at his side with his free hand.

“You do realize how close we were to getting into real trouble?” Enjolras asks him, still breathing heavy.

Grantaire shrugs, “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He catches Enjolras roll his eyes, so he adds quickly, “Just admit you enjoyed kneeing that cop in the balls. I saw that look on your face when you did it.”

Enjolras doesn't seem that worthy of a response, just shakes his head again, running his free hand across his forehead. Once the laughter has died in the back of Grantaire’s throat, he's suddenly very aware of Enjolras standing so close to him. 

“Please tell me you got the keys," he says, leaning both his hands down to his knees. Enjolras yanks his hand back up irritably. 

“Didn't you?” he looks hopeful and annoyed at the same time, like it was obvious that Grantaire was supposed make a grab for the keys before they broke into a run. Well, too bad Grantaire had been too enthralled by Enjolras being momentarily violent to do anything.

“Fuck,” Enjolras says, after receiving no positive response, and it's kind of funny the way his eyes widen.

Grantaire grins cheekily, “Guess you're stuck with me, Apollo.”

Enjolras yanks at the handcuff once again, and this time it cuts into Grantaire’s skin. “Ow,” he says lightly, pulling it back towards him in retaliation. Enjolras probably isn't expecting that, because he loses his balance for a second. Grantaire would laugh, but this means Enjolras is now glaring at him from an inch away rather than the usual four feet.

They're so close that Grantaire can smell Enjolras’ cologne, which he finds extremely impressive given the fact that they had just ran over multiple blocks and he himself is probably reeking of sweat by now.

“Do you have a bobby pin?” Enjolras makes no attempt to move or address the obvious effect he's currently having on Grantaire.

“Yeah, I carry one on me all the time. You never know when you might need to pick a lock,” he returns, and Enjolras, bless him, actually looks a little relieved for a second before he realizes. “Do you even know how to pick handcuffs with a bobby pin, Apollo?”

“No,” Enjolras admits sheepishly. “It always seems to work in the movies,” he adds defensively.

Grantaire sighs.

“This is all your fault,” Enjolras says again, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, is it?” Grantaire snaps. “If your dumb ass hadn't convinced me to come with you, this would never have happened,” he says, raising his handcuffed hand to make a point.

“Why did you punch that guard!” Enjolras says, exasperated. “If you had just stayed quiet and followed my lead - but no, you _had_ to go and -”

“Well, what was I supposed to do? He _saw_ you!” Grantaire interjects, impatiently.

Enjolras opens his mouth and closes it. Grantaire considers it a victory.

“I hate you,” Enjolras says resolutely, and that's that.

Grantaire glares at him, but there's no real fire in it. His glares aren't half as powerful as Enjolras’. “I'm not particularly enjoying being handcuffed to you either.”

It suddenly strikes to Grantaire, that he's never before been alone with Enjolras so late in the night. It's a realization that brings him giddy, childish joy, and he's almost ashamed of himself for it. And he's not even thinking about being handcuffed to Enjolras, which is surprisingly something he's never dreamt of and yet, his imagination could run _wild_ with it given the chance. Enjolras’ warm hand brushing up against his is enough for his fantasies, apparently, considering his heart rate at the moment. Enjolras, who is ignoring his last comment and fidgeting with the handcuff in vain, finally breaks the silence.

“Are you just going to stand there staring at me or are you going to help with this _thing_ ,” he says, and Grantaire grits his teeth. Not because he's embarrassed at being caught staring, absolutely not.

“I'm calling Eponine,” he mutters, already fishing into his pockets for his phone. Enjolras seems mildly annoyed, but stops fidgeting and watches Grantaire make the call. 

Eponine picks up on the first ring. “Where the fuck are you? We've been worried as hell. And Enjolras is missing- is he with you?”

“Yeah, he's with me. We're kind of in a situation,” Grantaire says quickly.

“Shit, did the cops get you?” She sounds oddly worried and impressed at the same time.

“Yeah. I mean, no. We managed to get away - but, uh - we're kind of handcuffed together? And Enjolras didn't think to get the keys before kicking the cop in the balls, so -”

He can already hear Eponine trying to restrain her laughter. “You got handcuffed with Enjolras? Isn't that one of your kinky -” and before he can hear the rest of that sentence, Enjolras has managed to snatch the phone. Which, well. Grantaire’s life is a fucking joke, so why not.

Enjolras, pauses for a moment with the phone to his ear and Grantaire’s self preservation skills finally decide to kick in. He tries to snatch the phone back, and Enjolras tries to get away from him and it's too late before he realizes he can't go very far without dragging Grantaire with him and he's pushing at Grantaire’s chest and somehow, Grantaire manages to knock his phone out of Enjolras’ grasp.

“What the fuck,” Enjolras says, because in the next moment, they're both on the ground, because Grantaire, as usual, has overestimated his strength. It's almost funny how often Grantaire seems to land in these situations. He's afraid he's crushing Enjolras under him, so he sits up quickly, accidentally elbowing Enjolras in the process. “Grantaire!” Enjolras cries, “You absolute -”

Grantaire doesn't let him finish that. He’s reaching for the phone that has landed about an inch farther from Enjolras’ head, without bothering to move from over Enjolras and Enjolras just shuts up. “Eponine? Hey! So - We're fine. Just please tell me how to get rid of this handcuff,” he starts, hoping to God Eponine is still on the other end of the line.

“Why did you think I'd know how to do that?” Eponine answers after a brief pause, and Grantaire honestly hadn't thought about that at all. He had just assumed Eponine would be the kind of person who knew how to pick locks.

“...I just thought you'd know,” he answers lamely. Enjolras is looking up at him expectantly.

“You're an idiot. Just come over to Courf’s place, we'll figure something out. Courf is already looking for YouTube videos on how to pick a lock. Worst comes to worst, we'll saw the thing off, I guess,” she says. “Feuilly has a saw.”

Grantaire is rightly horrified. Eponine hangs up without a goodbye, which she often does. Enjolras tries to sit up under Grantaire, using just one hand. And he's not going to lie, their physical contact is starting to get to Grantaire.

“So… we have to go to Courf’s place,” Grantaire tells him. 

Enjolras looks at him, annoyed. His ears are all red. “Okay, let's go,” he says, his voice strained. Then clears his throat, “Get off me.” Grantaire thinks he must have hit his head. A little part of Grantaire, however, wonders if Enjolras is also just as affected by their proximity as he is. And since Grantaire is a little shit who loves to push Enjolras’ buttons, he doesn't get off right away.

“Courf’s place is blocks away. There's no way I'm walking till there,” he says. “My place is just a block away. All this running has made me tired.”

Enjolras blinks at him. “Grantaire, no.”

“Come on, Enj. Let's just get home, get some sleep and we'll figure this thing out tomorrow.” Honestly, sometimes Grantaire makes good points and this is one of those rare times.

“No. We have to get this off.”

“Enj, please,” Grantaire whines, “I'm too tired to walk. And there's no cabs at this hour. Besides, we'll look like idiots trying to get into a cab with our hands cuffed.”

Enjolras narrows his eyes. He's considering it, obviously, which makes Grantaire mentally cheer for himself.

“A bed. A _warm -_ ”

“Fine," Enjolras says, surprisingly easy. “Now get off me.”

Grantaire grins wide.

 

* * *

“I'd take the couch, but there's no way that's going to work.”

They reach home in under ten minutes. A good decision, clearly, because Grantaire’s legs are already starting to hurt. Enjolras seems more annoyed than ever, but he's also not saying much. It's already difficult to read him usually, but it's even worse now. He seems on edge, but also kind of lost in thought. For instance, he just stands there watching Grantaire struggle with his jacket for two whole minutes instead of reminding him that it's impossible to take it off with the cuff coming in the way. Grantaire sheepishly puts the jacket back on, and swiftly avoids talking about it by changing the subject. He doesn't think Enjolras even notices.

They stand in the middle of Grantaire’s living room. “Uh. Do you want anything to drink?” Grantaire asks, finally.

“No, I'm fine,” Enjolras answers.

“Okay.”

Grantaire remembers to pull out his phone and shoot their friends a text.

 

_bigR: hey guys so enj and i were rly tired and we were too far away from courfs place so we took an executive decision to go home and worry about this handcuff situation tomorrow. u guys should sleep too. [2:45]_

 

“Okay, that's done,” Grantaire says out loud, throwing his phone on the couch. “Come on,” he pulls Enjolras to his room, a little self conscious about all the mess he had not considered to clean. “Uh. This is where the magic happens,” he announces.

Enjolras doesn't look amused, but he looks around, taking the room in. Grantaire wants nothing more than to jump on the bed, but he can't. “Which side do you want?” Grantaire asks finally, breaking the awkward silence.

“I don't think we have much of a choice,” Enjolras says, gesturing at the cuffs.

“Right. You take the left.”

It's weird not getting out of his clothes before going to bed. He's almost about to complain when he realizes that he can still, technically, take off his jeans and slip into something more comfortable.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asks when he opens up his closet to take out some pajamas.

“What does it look it?” Grantaire replies.“You can look away if you want.”

Enjolras makes a distressed noise and turns, holding his wrist as far away from Grantaire’s as he can while Grantaire takes off his pants.

“Do you want some? Jeans aren't very comfortable to sleep in, believe me.”

“I'm fine,” Enjolras says.

“You can turn back now,” Grantaire rolls his eyes, making his way to the bathroom.

“What are you _doing_?” Enjolras asks, widening his eyes once he realizes where they're headed.

Grantaire sniggers. “Relax. I'm brushing my teeth.”

It's a weird moment of silence while Grantaire brushes his teeth and Enjolras just stands there beside him, watching him in the mirror. Grantaire flashes him a toothy grin before he spits out the foam and Enjolras rolls his eyes. Grantaire is absolutely certain he imagines Enjolras cracking a smile. Grantaire is decidedly _not_ thinking about how utterly domestic this is. He's _not_ thinking about how, if they were together, they'd brush their teeth together just like this. They're not together. And Enjolras is just awkwardly standing there. And he's starting to get restless too.

“Hurry up,” he says, shifting on his feet. Grantaire does as told, but it's admittedly difficult doing everything with one hand _and_ being under this kind of pressure. He's finally done rinsing and he's about to turn when Enjolras stops him.

“I - have to take a piss,” he says, so quickly that Grantaire kind of misses it in the first go. He’s biting his lip and his face is reddish around his cheeks and he's obviously kind of desperate. It shouldn't be cute.

“Uh. Okay,” Grantaire says. Because there's little he can say to _that_. He's trying very hard not to burst into a laugh.

“Okay, just. Just - look away,” Enjolras says, his voice strained. “And stand as far away from me as you can.”

Grantaire does so gladly, while Enjolras turns towards the can. Grantaire closes his eyes and tries to think about anything other than Enjolras, inches away from him, with his dick in his hand.

He hears a clinking sound, and a groan and he stops himself from turning. “Grantaire,” he hears Enjolras’ pained voice, “I can't unzip my pants with one hand.” Grantaire has no idea what to say to that.

“Just - ugh - I'm going to -,” and Enjolras is pulling his outstretched hand, the one cuffed to Grantaire, possibly to use it for unzipping the pants. Grantaire’s mind is terribly blank.

“Why isn't this -,” Enjolras groans, frustrated, and Grantaire takes a deep breath.

“Do you want some help with that?”

The silence is... well. Grantaire is just trying to breathe through his nose.

“Yes.”

Holy shit, okay. Grantaire hesitantly turns, just a bit. Enjolras doesn't look at him. He moves a bit closer, using his free hand to pull down Enjolras’ zipper. He can feel Enjolras’ breath on his hair. It’s kind of jammed, but Grantaire manages to get it free. “That's a stubborn zip,” he says, to lighten up the room, once it's done. “You're welcome.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but he's clearly too embarrassed to say anything. He pushes Grantaire away, and Grantaire turns back around, unable to contain his laughter. He's still laughing when Enjolras is done with his business.

He catches Enjolras smiling while he washes his hand. “Shut up,” he tells Grantaire, “It's not easy doing this with one hand.”

It's weird, but somehow, the initial awkward and tense air around them seems to have broken.

 

* * *

They get into bed with a bit of struggle. They lie there, with a measured distance between them. Only their joined hands mark the middle. They've promised each other not to move the hand. Grantaire doubts he'll be able to do anything about that once he's asleep - he's kind of a fussy sleeper - but he agrees anyway.

“Your mattress is soft,” Enjolras says, suddenly.

“Yeah?” Grantaire turns to look at him. “Thanks, man.”

“Hey, today was...kind of fun.” Enjolras says after a beat.

Grantaire is unable to contain his smile. “Yeah. It kind of was.”

“I mean, it was stupid and reckless,” Enjolras continues, “But still fun.” Enjolras turns to his side, facing Grantaire. Grantaire’s heart kind of stutters at the sight of Enjolras lying in his bed like that, his golden hair spread over _his_ pillows. It's a sight, to say the least. “Good night, R,” Enjolras says, his voice unbearably soft.

Grantaire doesn't watch Enjolras sleeping, that would be creepy, but he's still very aware of his presence. He's also tossing and turning in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Stop it,” Enjolras says, finally, clearly irritated.

“I can't sleep.”

“Then don't. But stop moving.”

“It's uncomfortable sleeping with a piece of metal around your wrist. I can't believe some people find this sexy.”

“It's not that bad,” says Enjolras.

Grantaire blinks at him. “Oh my God. Do you have a handcuff kink? Is that what it's called?” Enjolras rolls his eyes. “I do not.”

Grantaire raises himself on his elbow, “You _do_.” “Do you find this hot, Apollo? Does it get you all hot and bothered to be put in handcuffs?” he teases, because that's all he's good at.

Enjolras glares at him. “I do _not_ ,” he says, his voice firm.

“Or is it the other way around? Do you like seeing _me_ in handcuffs?”

Enjolras opens his mouth to say something, still glaring at Grantaire and then closes it. “Go to sleep,” he says.

Grantaire wants to push, but he knows its best to drop it. “I _meant_ , it's not that uncomfortable,” Enjolras says.

“It is! I can't find a good position. It's weird keeping this hand outstretched,” Grantaire complains.

Enjolras sighs. “Do whatever you want. Just let me sleep.” With that, he shuts his eyes.

Grantaire moves just a bit closer, enough that he could count Enjolras’ eyelashes if he wanted to. They're surprisingly long. Enjolras’ breaths even out, and Grantaire watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. He's not sure when he shuts his own eyes, but he does and he lets sleep take him over.

 

* * *

When he wakes, it's because his arm is dead and can't move. He blinks his eyes open, and finds it pinned under Enjolras. Enjolras has turned to the other side, curling into the empty space that existed between the two of them when they went to sleep. He's sleeping on Grantaire’s arm, which can't possibly be very comfortable. He has also managed to tangle their hands together.

Grantaire groans sleepily. He can smell Enjolras’ hair. It's a faint fragrance of apples. He nudges his nose further in Enjolras’ curls, almost involuntarily.

It's only a second later that his body starts waking up as well, which is...not ideal in this position to say the least. He panics, trying to shift away from Enjolras, but with his pinned hand, he can barely move. He rolls Enjolras away from him, finally, but that only results in a soft moan from Enjolras - it does _not_ help his situation.

He can't very well go and take care of himself either, so he tries to think of all the unsexy things that he can think of. Enjolras is, thankfully, still asleep. Grantaire wonders if he can get away with touching himself - just a little. Probably not. He catches himself looking at Enjolras again, and it just makes everything worse. He shuts his eyes forcefully, tries to go back to unsexy images.

“Mornin’” he hears Enjolras mumble, and his eyes shoot open. _Great_.

He tries to pull the blanket, that is half strewn across the floor, to cover himself. “Morning,” he returns cheerfully, hoping to God Enjolras doesn't notice. He's decidedly not looking at Enjolras.

“You can take care of that,” Enjolras says, his voice cracking with sleep.

Grantaire freezes, whirls around to look at Enjolras. Enjolras’ eyes are still shut, and he's snuggling further into the pillow. “I'm goin’ back to sleep,” he mumbles. Grantaire doesn't know what to do. He can't believe Enjolras is so casual about it. Maybe he's done this with Courf or Ferre. Those three share their beds more often than normal, right? Enjolras, true to his word, goes back to sleep. Or at least it seems that way, because he doesn't open his eyes again. Grantaire still doesn't know what to do.

But he's only human. And well, Enjolras did give him permission.

So he reaches with his left hand, and pushes the palm of it against his hard on. He hisses quietly at the momentary relief. He shoots a look at Enjolras, to reassure that he's sleeping still. He doesn't seem to move, so Grantaire very carefully pushes his hand in his pajamas, grasping at himself. It's so _weird_ doing this with his left hand but he doesn't think he's going to last anyway, with Enjolras sleeping right next to him. He's not trying to be creepy, shit.

He begins moving his hand, feeling the warmth spread over his body. He has to bite his lip from making a sound. He leans his head back against the pillow, trying to move as fast as possible. It's totally involuntary, he swears, but he can't help looking at Enjolras. His eyes hungrily trail over those beautiful eyelashes, and that soft skin and those red lips, he imagines what it would be like to move just a bit closer, and to kiss Enjolras, _he's so close_.

He shuts his eyes again, because it's _too much_ and Enjolras shuffles next to him - their cuffed hands brushing against each other. Grantaire’s hand on his cock freezes. The cool metal is digging into his skin. And he can't help it, he imagines being handcuffed to his bed and Enjolras on top of him, pinning him down and moving against him. _Fuck._ A moan slips out of his lips. His hand isn't even moving and he feels like he's going to come. He imagines Enjolras’ mouth on him, his sweet lips wrapped around his cock and moving impossibly slow, but he can't do anything but sit there and take it, because his hands are cuffed.

He doesn't know when, but he switches to his right hand. It's easier like this. It's only when he's pushed it down his pants does he realize what comes with it. He feels Enjolras’ hand against his thigh, and he opens his mouth in a silent moan. There's more movement beside him, but he's too chicken to look. Curiosity gets the better of him, though. His breath catches in his throat when he finds Enjolras’ eyes trained on him.

He doesn't avert them. Grantaire is probably going to die like this.

“Do you want some help with that?”

Oh yeah, Grantaire is definitely going to die like this.

He can't bring himself to figure out if Enjolras is joking or not, but he manages a nod. Enjolras’ hand on his thigh moves, and even when it's over the pajamas, the touch is better than anything Grantaire has known. Enjolras’ hand pushes past the waistband, and he's swatting Grantaire’s hand away before taking his cock in his own. Enjolras’ fingers are long and dainty and his grip is hard but just so _right_ and when he moves Grantaire feels his heart soar.

He still can't quite make himself look at Enjolras because that makes this all very real. Enjolras uses his free hand to pull down Grantaire’s pajamas past his thighs. Grantaire can _see_ Enjolras’ fingers wrapped around him, and how they move up to envelope the head and spread the precome down the length of his cock.

“Fuck,” he says, and then Enjolras kisses him.

It's better than he ever could have imagined.

He moans, using his free hand to push into Enjolras’ glorious curls. Enjolras’ lips move against his, hesitant at first, like he's asking a question. Grantaire returns with all the _yes_ he can translate into the kiss. Enjolras pauses, pulls away and it takes everything in Grantaire’s will to not trail after his lips. Enjolras looks at him, his hair a bit wild and his eyes too. With a start Grantaire realizes it's the same glint in his eyes that he gets when he's too fired up during a speech.

“Wait,” he says, and Grantaire does. “Wait - just - Let me -,” and then he pulls his hand away too, and shifts till he's loosely straddling Grantaire, taking Grantaire’s cuffed hand in his and pinning it besides Grantaire’s head. He looks straight out of Grantaire’s fantasy. “Fuck, Enj,” he gasps, he can feel Enjolras hard against him. “Oh my God.”

Enjolras, unashamed, grinds against Grantaire without looking away. Grantaire is filled with awe. Enjolras grins. “You're a mess,” he says.

“It's your fault,” Grantaire’s lips are unable to not curl upwards. He reaches his free hand to the front of Enjolras’ jeans, feeling Enjolras through his pants. He tries to unbutton it and pull down the zip, but it proves difficult. Enjolras laughs, helping Grantaire push down his jeans and _God_ , Grantaire’s dreams come true, there is a literal marble angel in his lap. Enjolras, for the first time since this morning, gets that reddish pink hue on the high of his cheeks. Grantaire takes him in his hand, revelling in the feel of it. Enjolras makes the softest sound, and Grantaire wants to die all over again.

“Grantaire,” he whispers, thrusting into Grantaire’s fist. “Oh,” he says, closing his eyes.

Grantaire is glad to be the one pleasing Enjolras, but his own throbbing cock begs his attention. He thrusts up against Enjolras, and takes both of their cocks in his hand. Enjolras groans, sitting back to bring his own hand to cover Grantaire’s, and it's _wonderful_. Grantaire thrusts against Enjolras’ cock at a steady rhythm. Enjolras moves his hand over their heads, and the warmth of it brings Grantaire so close to the edge.

“Enj,” he moans, itching to touch Enjolras with his other hand, but finding it pinned under Enjolras’.

Enjolras bites his bottom lip, grinds back into Grantaire’s lap, and Grantaire can't help but imagine fucking him and that does him in, he spasms all over and spills into Enjolras’ hand, Enjolras’ fingers still relentlessly moving against them. Enjolras follows a moment later, spilling across Grantaire’s shirt with a sharp gasp. When he stops trembling, he falls over Grantaire’s chest, probably ruining his own jacket as well.

The gravity of what they have done only settles into Grantaire consciousness now, and he's almost scared of what comes next.

“’Taire,” Enjolras mumbles. He's never called him that. Grantaire turns to look up at him. Enjolras looking at him like that, with the widest of smiles, with his hair falling to Grantaire’s chest and tickling his chin, makes Grantaire’s heart swell.

“Shut up,” Grantaire says, cracking a smile. “It's not easy doing that with one hand.”

Enjolras laughs a wonderful laugh, leaning up to give him a peck. “Not that I hate being cuffed to you, but we should probably get rid off this,” he says, sensibly.

 

He's right, of course, but it takes a while before either of them make a move to get up.

 

* * *

“I got the saw, just in case,” Feuilly announces when he arrives, holding a huge bag.

Grantaire and Enjolras are sitting on the couch, surrounded by their ridiculous friends. The fact that the either of them can't stop grinning doesn't go unnoticed by anyone, but no one thinks to comment on it. They're good friends.

“And I have brought my entire collection of bobby pins,” Cosette says, turning the entire contents of a small pouch upside down on the coffee table. It's a mountain of pins. Courfeyrac, who apparently had watched every single lock picking video on YouTube, is already jumping with excitement.

“Okay, here goes,” he says, choosing one very bright pink pin and trying the lock on the cuffs. “It was easier with the door lock,” he mumbles after a minute of fidgeting with it. Bahorel clicks his tongue and pulls out the saw, holding it out like it's a sword.

“That is the last resort,” Enjolras says quickly, his eyes widening.

Eponine giggles, falling into the couch besides Grantaire. Thankfully, just a few minutes later, there is a definitive click and the cuffs fall off, leaving Courfeyrac to fist the air with a shout.

“Oh, thank God,” Enjolras says and everyone bursts into cheer. Not that it lasts.

“Wait,” Eponine says suddenly, leaning forward to sniff the air around Grantaire, her eyes narrowed. “Why do you two reek of sex?”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is appreciated!


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